


Seasons

by jeunesse



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon (Main Video Game Series), Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types, Pocket Monsters: Black & White | Pokemon Black and White Versions
Genre: Canon Compliant, Family Issues, Gen, Growing Up, Isshu-chihou | Unova, Kalos-chihou | Kalos, protag!black, subway girl!white
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-09-19
Updated: 2018-09-19
Packaged: 2019-07-14 06:12:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,468
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16034624
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeunesse/pseuds/jeunesse
Summary: Slowly but surely, they move forward one step at a time.Post-game glimpses into the protagonists' and rivals' lives.





	1. Summer

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the Pokemon Big Bang 2018.
> 
> Happy 8th Anniversary, Black and White, I love you!

Alder had kicked him off Victory Road with nothing more than a smile and a vague, "Live life, young man!"

"I was going to leave even without you telling me," Cheren had grumbled, along with some other comments about talking like an old man and how Alder should watch out for his (perfectly straight and healthy) back. And with all the cool nonchalance of a dismissive teenager, he spun on his heel and left.

-

He had lied.

If Alder hadn't said a thing, Cheren was sure he'd still be lingering around Victory Road, gazing up at the looming walls of the Pokémon League, teetering on the edge of possibility but never entering.

Even though he had said all those grand things to Black, epiphanies about true strength, the determination to change his path...

Old dreams died hard.

-

"105 degrees," he read out loud in disbelief, sticking close to the air vent near the gate attendant's booth. He grimaced as he shook out the back of his shirt, the material drenched with sweat and sticking to his skin. The weather report continued to slide across the electric bulletin board— _Nuvema: Sunny 95°F - Route 1: Sunny 95°F - Accumula: Sunny 98°F_.

"It hasn't been this hot in years," the attendant next to him said. "Must be that—what do you kids call it? Climate change?" Cheren watched enviously as the attendant unscrewed a bottle of water, took a big gulp, and let out an audible sigh of satisfaction. "And where are you headed?"

The attendant gestured to Cheren's bag—huge, bulky, and stuffed with potions and items and his own jacket peeking out of a poor zip job. "You can't be thinking about backpacking in this heat wave."

"I was planning on flying," he said, his hand brushing against Unfezant's poké ball at his belt. Though at this point, surfing down the entire coast of Unova sounded better than flying any closer to the sun. "But I'll probably take the subway."

"You'll have to hike to get to Opelucid Station."

I know, Cheren wanted to say. Instead he sighed.

He sure picked a hell of a time to go adventuring.

-

His first stop was home.

It was eerie how unchanging Nuvema was, when only months before the upper half of Unova faced a society-ending calamity. The sleepy peacefulness blanketing the small town was jarring—almost as if he had stepped into a pocket of the world where time crawled at its own, slower pace.

His house was the same. His parents still kind, still laidback.

"It sounds fun," his mother said over dinner. "You should go and play."

"I'm not 'playing', I'm going to start over as a trainer—"

"Sure," she said. "Here, have more meat. You look thin."

Professor Juniper had the same smiling, dismissive attitude as his family.

"Don't work too hard, you hear?"

He furrowed his brow, and she patted his shoulder.

"Sometimes the answers we need the most come from the unlikeliest of places." She gave a thumbs up. Cheren stared at her, not entirely sure what she was getting at. "Well, don't think too much about it. Just go and do wherever you like."

Bianca's father was stiff from his speech to his movements, as per usual. They sat in a drawn out silence on a couch, while Bianca's mother hummed and made tea in the kitchen.

"Bianca's not here right now," he finally said. "She's at CasU taking a summer course."

Cheren nodded. "She called a while back, saying she was thinking about it."

Bianca's father grunted and his hands ran over the material of his pants, imaginary sweat clinging onto his palms in the stilted atmosphere. "Well. Say hi to her if you go there."

"Of course."

The only thing strange was Black's mother.

While she gave much of the same speech everyone else had given him, she paused for a moment at the end, asking, "Have you heard from Black?"

"Black?" Cheren tilted his head ever so slightly, as if it would rattle his memory. "I called him a couple weeks ago." When she remained silent for a beat too long, he continued, "He seemed to be doing alright. Said he was around Undella, something about ruins."

If he was being honest, Cheren hadn't bothered to prod too deeply into Black's matters. A twinge of guilt tugged at his conscience.

"I see." Her face broke out into a delayed smile. "Thank you. Well, I shouldn't be keeping you. Stay safe and enjoy yourself!"

He nodded.

"And remember to call your parents every now and then."

-

Training with wild pokémon was proving to be utterly useless.

The wild grass was shriveling underneath the intensity of the sun. It was also absolutely empty. Cheren could lie down in it and burn into ashes before a poor unsuspecting Patrat wandered out from the cool, shady depths of the local forest.

His Liepard slapped his leg with the flat of its tail, panting and glaring.

"Sorry," he said, "it's hot isn't it. You can go back." He took out a poké ball from his belt. "I'll keep searching, so—"

Before Cheren could click it open, Liepard smacked the poké ball out of his hand and growled in annoyance.

He pursed his lips. It was too hot to yell.

"What was _that_ for?"

It jabbed its head in the direction of a sign. Whatever trainer tip had been written on it was covered by a poster of a picturesque beach.

_Visit Undella — A Town of Rippling Waves!_

"No."

If pokémon could talk, Cheren was sure his Liepard would've called him an idiot.

-

He managed to hold out till Striaton, after which he gave up on walking entirely.

In his haze, Cheren didn't remember how he had managed to get to the nearest station, properly pay for his ticket, or even board a train, but the moment the doors closed behind him he knew he had messed up somewhere.

The car was completely empty save for one—a girl around his age who, despite plenty of empty seats, stood in the very middle while holding onto a grab handle.

Cheren pushed his glasses up and squinted to make sure this wasn't some sort of vision-induced illusion. The girl was still there, and she was smiling brightly at him.

"You ready?"

"...What?"

"Wow, you look like you're about to pass out any second. You sure you're up for this?"

"Huh?"

"Do you need to sit down? You can for a bit. We still have a while to the next station."

Cheren stared blankly at her.

"Excuse me," he said, slowly, "but what are you talking about?"

She stared incredulously back.

"Aren't we battling?"

"Battling?"

"This is the Battle Subway," she said. "You know that, right?"

-

As the seconds passed and the train began to move, Cheren felt ridiculous standing up, clinging onto a bar for support. With a sigh, he dropped himself into the nearest seat.

"I forfeit."

The girl blinked.

"What?" She looked lost. "But...we have to battle? That's the whole point?"

"You're not a robot. You don't _have_ to do anything."

In his mind, he imagined his Liepard snorting at him. Cheren shoved the mentally conjured pokémon aside.

"Are you sure you don't just wanna fight? I mean, we might as well since we're here—"

"Definitely not."

The girl frowned until her entire face seemed to droop.

"Okay," she said, dragging out the vowels in disappointment.

Cheren sighed in relief when she began walking to seat herself—

—until she sat down right next to him.

She stuck out a hand. He eyed it warily.

"If we're going to be here for a while," she said, "we might as well get to know each other."

"I'd...rather not."

"Come _ooon_. Don't be a stranger."

They _were_ strangers though.

Cheren pursed his lips. It was as if Alder had suddenly appeared before him, forceful and draining and overly familiar.

When he did grab her hand, her grip was uncomfortably firm, but he got the feeling that her strength was less out of proving dominance and more from a lack of self-awareness.

"There we go. Nice to meet you." Her smile widened. "I'm White."

-

The next fifteen minutes were the longest fifteen minutes of his life.

White was from Nimbasa, a self-proclaimed Battle Subway veteran and nerd, and knew more about the local Trubbish populations than he would have ever liked to know.

"Listen," he said, cutting her off after her third brag about being better than the Subway Masters, "if you're so good, why don't you do something else besides the Battle Subway?"

"What do you mean?"

"Why don't you take on the League?"

She cocked her head to one side. "I never thought about it."

"Seriously?" Cheren raised an eyebrow. "Aren't you limiting yourself by doing the same thing all the time?" 

"Ingo and Emmet do it every day though."

"That's their _job_."

White frowned. "Then, did you fight the League?"

"I did."

"All eight?"

"All eight."

"Wow," she said, "you're a real big shot, aren't you?"

Cheren somehow found it more irritating that she sounded genuine instead of sarcastic.

"Hey, hey, does that mean you fought the Elite Four?"

He wondered if he could pretend he didn't hear her when White was practically shouting in his ear, leaning towards him with glittering eyes.

And just as quickly, she leaned away, looking uncharacteristically serious. "Oh, but I guess that means you lost. Otherwise you'd be Champion and all that, right?"

Cheren dug his nails into his thighs.

"But you look pretty strong," White said, not seeming to notice his silence. She winked at him. "If you ever change your mind, I'll always be down for a battle."

-

He had figured Pinwheel Forest would be easy enough, and it was. Even with type disadvantages, Serperior had come out the clear winner of each encounter.

But as he sat on a moss-covered log in the quiet of the forest, the only thought that ran through Cheren's head was how many moves he could've cut down on. How many clumsy steps and wasted motions. How many lengthy setups and hasty attacks.

His Serperior wasn't the problem. It had done just fine, dodging and counterattacking even without his commands. Cheren was the problem.

He had forgotten how to battle.

It was laughable. In trying to find a new kind of strength, he had fallen into an entirely different trap. The fear of repeating the same mistakes. The fear of slipping into the same mindless pursuit of strength as before. And in the dark caves of Victory Road, defeat after defeat after defeat, it was all too easy to lose sight of himself and forget.

Cheren inhaled slow and deep, but there was no relief in the stifling humidity and the crowding trees.

Despite the weather, he called out Unfezant and mumbled a promise of treats when it sluggishly turned its head to glare. It ruffled its feathers, sighed, and crouched down so Cheren could climb on.

Being alone with his own thoughts in this weather must be driving him crazy. So he'd go get some company.

-

Castelia in the summer was a nightmare to navigate.

The amount of tourists seemed to increase every year, and the sheer amount of bodies from morning to night did nothing to lessen the heat. But whatever inconvenience they brought in, they made up for in energy. Even in the evening, the air thrummed with conversation and laughter and shouts. The sky was beginning to darken, but the lights lining the streets and climbing the walls of skyscrapers gave the impression of prolonging the daylight.

"Cheren! Cheren, I got them!"

Bianca's voice was barely audible above the crowd. She frantically lifted both her arms as others jostled into her, standing tip toe to keep the box of Casteliacones in her hands safe.

"I told you I don't need—"

"Can't hear you!"

Cheren frowned and pushed up his glasses, but still weaved his way through the crowd to lift the box from her hands. Bianca smiled wide in victory.

"I got the last dozen just in time!"

"Honestly—"

"Oh, just give it to your pokémon you big grump." Bianca turned him around and lightly shoved his back. "Come on, let's go to my dorm. Everyone's body heat is going to melt them if we eat here."

She skipped ahead before he could say anything else, and he followed in silence. For a moment, they turned into a dark, secluded alley, and Cheren thought of the scary movies that he, Bianca, and Black used to watch in the summer. Bianca and Black never seemed to mind even at a young age—they laughed every time Cheren quietly hid behind a pillow, sometimes offering one to him ahead of time. 

Just as quickly as they entered, they stepped back out into a busy street, and only then did he realize Bianca had slowed to walk beside him in the darkness. She hummed a random tune—something she came up with on the spot, judging from the discordant notes—and when she met his eyes, she gave a small, cheeky smile.

"That place looks sketchy, but everyone there is nice. There's a cute little cafe there too."

He sighed. "I didn't ask."

She continued humming as if she hadn't heard him. They didn't enter any more alleys after.

-

They never asked "how are you."

Instead they watched TV, argued over the accuracy of Waving Weaving Walk, and laughed over the National Gymquirer. Cheren fed Casteliacones to his pokémon and gave Unfezant a thorough head scratch. They let out his Liepard and her Stoutland, both of whom had never gotten along, but in the small confines of Bianca's room were forced to settle their differences through narrowed eyes and indignant huffs.

Somehow, in the dim orange light from Bianca's lamp, the balmy breeze flowing in from an open window, and the ice cream wrappings cluttering the already cramped room, Cheren felt whatever had weighed down on him earlier fade into the distance.

They chatted even after the lights were off—Bianca in her bed, Cheren in his sleeping bag—the whirring of the ceiling fan filling the occasional silence and keeping them company.

"Do you ever wonder if we're doing the right thing?" Bianca suddenly asked after one of those lulls.

"What do you mean?"

"I mean, we told each other all these things a while ago. 'I'm going to do this.' 'I know what to do now.' But." Bianca's blankets rustled as she shifted.

"But," she repeated, "aren't you scared?"

Cheren didn't realize he was holding his breath until the only sound he could hear was his own heartbeat, and the fan blades swimming above.

He licked his lips, but nothing would come out.

Bianca said, voice small, "Sometimes I wonder, 'what would Black do?'"

The fan continued to whir.

"Sorry. This is silly. Never mind." Bianca laughed. "Forget what I said."

Cheren never had many friends, but he did know Bianca well enough that he could picture the face she was making. Forced. Stiff. The kind of smile he'd glimpse post-battles. He was no stranger to losing, but he knew Bianca had always felt losses more—and in a well-practiced routine, she'd plaster on smiles like cheap bandages and run off.

"It's okay," he said.

She didn't say anything in return. Eventually Cheren fell asleep, nodding off to the ceiling fan and his own quiet breaths.

-

Route 4's entrance was blocked. WARNING! HEAT WAVE DO NOT ENTER, the bright orange sign said. _Please take the subway to reach Nimbasa_ , it said in smaller font, followed by a picture of a Sewaddle drinking a water bottle.

For some reason, Cheren had a bad feeling about this. The feeling only worsened when he stepped out of a cramped, sweaty train and onto Gear Station.

"Whaaat! No way! It's you!"

He almost turned around, but he didn't know anyone in Nimbasa save for Elesa, and that was decidedly not Elesa's voice. No one else could possibly know him. He started walking at a brisk pace towards the exit.

"Hey! Wait up!"

He walked faster.

A hand snaked out of nowhere and grabbed his arm.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a wide, toothy grin and glinting eyes from under a cap.

To his disappointment, White had not forgotten about him in the slightest.

-

Cheren watched in horror as she purchased two Battle Subway tickets.

"How many times do I have to tell you I don't want to?"

"Zero," she said confidently.  "I'm gonna make you fight no matter what."

"Would you just listen to me," he hissed.

"I did, last time. This time you have to listen to me."

"That's not how it works!"

"It does here. My home ground, my rules."

She smiled and fanned herself with bright red tickets, the word DOUBLES printed on the stubs.

"Ready, partner?"

-

White fought with reckless abandon. No holds barred, anything goes. The exact opposite of how Cheren preferred to fight.  They were uncoordinated, constantly colliding into each other, nearly aiming attacks at each other, and through White's sheer brute force alone they had managed to win the first battle.

"That sucked."

"What did you expect? We didn't have any time to prepare."

"No, you idiot," she said. "You're the one overthinking things."

He sneered. "Who are you calling an idiot? I don't want to hear that from you—"

She marched up to him, her steps heavy and resounding even in the shaking of the train car, and without warning her arm stretched towards him. Cheren flinched.

But the only sensation he felt was his glasses sliding off his face.

"What are you doing? I can't see!"

"You don't have to. Don't focus on anything. Just follow my lead, okay? Back me up."

Their second battle was a dizzying nightmare. Cheren squinted the entire time, wishing he wore contacts instead, pressing himself into dirty windows to narrowly avoid White's Darmanitan's flare blitz, and getting shoved to the side by his Gigalith as it took the brunt of an incoming hit.

It was humiliating.

In the middle of their fourth battle, he found himself responding to White's voice. Unfezant flew when she called for Excadrill's earthquake. Gigalith set up stealth rocks while Garbodor's waves of poison chased their opponent wildly around the car. She laughed whenever she ran and dodged, and he scrambled to hide in a corner.

And they won.

White slapped him on the back, hooked an arm through his, and dragged his out-of-shape body into the next car.

-

Their fourteenth battle ended in failure. Cheren could chalk it up to type matchups, or he could blame it on his inexperience, but he was breathing hard, his muscles ached, and something on him smelled burnt. White sat down on the seat next to him, loudly complaining of how she should just cut her hair off as she retied her mussed hair. They watched the train roll away as the Battle Subway continued on its trek.

"Why didn't you do singles?"

"What?" White sounded tired and distant. She fanned herself with her cap.

"Didn't you want to fight me? Why did you team up with me instead?"

She shrugged. "I was just in the mood for doubles."

Cheren sank down his seat, feeling more tired than before, but not surprised.

"Also it's easier to get to know someone if you fight with them, not against them." White stretched out her fist. "You were good. Totally worth all your eight gym badges."

He snorted. "Of course." And he bumped his fist with hers.

After a moment, Cheren found himself speaking. "You should take them on too. You could probably do it."

"What, me?" White stared off into space. "Like all those other kids? Going on an entire gym tour of Unova?"

"It doesn't have to be the Unova, or the league. It just seems like a waste if you only stay down here." Suddenly feeling a wave of shyness hit, he added, "Like some underground troll."

White did punch him this time, and Cheren accepted it.

-

He gave in.

Simipour danced around him in circles as he dumped out expired potions and space-hogging poké balls from his bag. Liepard's tail swung smugly back and forth.                                                  

A quick trip to Shopping Mall Nine was all he needed. A cheap pair of trunks. A tube of sunscreen. Flip flops and towels. Seven sun hats were an unnecessary impulse buy, especially since they wouldn't even fit on most of his pokémon, but Haxorus had wanted one. Then Simipour. Then everyone else. So he packed them in too.

The last thing he bought was a train ticket to Undella.

-

"Six of you," Cheren said. "Six. And only one of you doesn't hate the beach."

He looked pointedly at Liepard, who remained the furthest away. It snarled at the ocean.

"This was _your_ idea. _You_ wanted to come here first."

Simipour bounced on its feet impatiently as it whined at the rest of its team.

"Fine. You all stay out here. The two of us are going." With that, Cheren reached down and picked up Simipour, who clung onto his neck in glee.

Five minutes later, his entire team followed after him. Liepard stretched out onto a towel, rolling lazily underneath the sun. Unfezant preened itself. Gigalith struggled to walk through sand, sinking heavily with each step, but diligently collected every seashell it found. Cheren sprinted after Serperior and Haxorus, who were tossing Simipour around like a ball as it screeched in delight.

When he dozed off, Cheren woke up to his body buried in sand, Liepard resting its top half on his face, and half his team being scolded by a lifeguard. His back was sunburnt, and he sported an obvious glasses tan.

He really should switch to contacts.

-

Alder sounded strange through a Xtransceiver—there was more age and less bravado in the tremor of his voice. His bright, cheery aura was subdued through the unsaturated colors of the screen.

"You look like you're having fun."

Cheren adjusted his glasses in a poor attempt to hide his tan. "I guess."

Alder laughed. "Still as shy as ever." 

"Did you only call to make fun of me?"

"I certainly didn't call to have you be mean to me." Alder smiled. Cheren frowned. "But if you want me to get to the point, I will."

He paused, scratched his head, and with a tone reminiscent of asking the weather, asked,

"Have you ever thought about being a gym leader?"


	2. Autumn

Bianca was always falling behind.

Cheren was sure of his path. Black was confident in himself. And Bianca tried her best. That was the way it always was.

She had always been a little bit bitter, a little bit jealous. A little bit ashamed. And she would cling onto them a little bit tighter, in the hopes that somehow she would become as self-assured as them.

(Maybe that was why her father had always rubbed her the wrong way. He always seemed to see through her. He always said the things she hated to hear the most.)

But regardless, one by one, she collected those little bits of feelings and firmly bottled them up. She always smiled and always said “it will be fine.” Every time she fell, she would get back up with the hope that in the future, everything would turn out okay. She would be happy. “It will be fine.”

When the three of them set out on their journey, they had been together. It would be fine, she thought. And then almost immediately, Cheren sped off in a narrow-sighted pursuit of his dreams. Black was swept up into something bigger than any of them. And Bianca.

She fell off into the sidelines.

And in the midst of pulling herself back together, it became autumn.

-

After Castelia University’s summer program ended, she moved back home.

If she was younger, she would’ve considered the house toxic. A toxic environment—everything from her father to the very air inside, stuffy and choking. But now all Bianca could think was how quiet it was.

Her mother’s singing was quiet. Her father’s footsteps were quiet. The whirring of the washing machine was muffled. The TV was turned on at a low volume. Even sounds from outside were more distant than usual—the days were getting chillier, and the amount of time she could leave the windows open was getting shorter.

Bianca didn’t consider the house toxic anymore, but it was still suffocating nonetheless.

-

She didn’t hate her father. They had reached an understanding, which was more than she could have ever hoped for.

But family was family. They still asked questions.

“What are your plans now?”

She laughed awkwardly, tugged at the ends of her hair, and averted her gaze.

“What about reapplying to Castelia? Did you not like it?”

It wasn’t that she didn’t like it.

She was never as good a student as Cheren was, and she didn't have Black’s preternatural luck for guessing. Even if she studied twice as hard as her peers, Bianca would barely pass her courses. So all she needed to do was work four times as hard, which was fine, because that was her forte. She was strong because she worked hard. She was trustworthy because she worked hard.

She was tired.

But even that sounded like an excuse. She was tired, but it wasn’t the root of the problem. She was scared. Paralyzed. Teetering at the edge of a cliff. She was tired, too, of feeling scared.

So—for only a moment, she told herself—she’d take a break. She’d do nothing.

-

Cheren knocked on her door, two polite raps.

“Bianca?” One more knock. “I know you’re in there.”

Bianca lay still in bed and weighed her options. She could fake a cold, she could pretend she was asleep, or she could put on some pants and invite him in.

In the middle of her thoughts, Cheren’s voice cut through again.

“Your parents told me you haven’t come out in ages.”

She settled on pretending to sleep. From the other side of the door, Cheren shuffled and sighed.

“I’m leaving for a League banquet tomorrow.”

Bianca breathed as quietly as possible. Shallow inhales and soft exhales.

“Do you...want to come with me?”

She snorted into her covers. And do what, she almost said. She’d end up waiting pointlessly in a corner—and she didn’t want to bother putting on a thinning smile and dodging wave after wave of personal questions.

"You're better at talking to people than me."

She wasn't his mom. He didn't need a chaperone.

“Fine,” he said at last. “At least pick up your Xtransceiver.”

Long after his footsteps faded, Bianca tossed her Xtransceiver under her bed and pulled her blanket over her head.

-

_To: >B( Cheren_

_From: Bianca_

_ill go_

-

Somewhere in the middle of her tenth sip of water, Bianca decided that this was the most painful outing she'd ever been to.

Socializing had never been much of a problem—if anything, she would usually talk to people in Cheren's stead. People were far more receptive to bubbly smiles than stoic snark.

But this time Cheren was in the midst of a crowd and she was terribly out of her depth. Even the relationships she was familiar with were strange and foreign territory.

_"You're better at talking to people than me."_

She smiled.

While she had been wallowing around, he had taken one more step forward.

Bianca took another sip from her glass. She wanted to go home.

Then her mother's brief look of surprise and her father's steady stare as she left the house came to mind—and she decided home was the second-to-last place she wanted to be.

-

It was late when she returned. Bianca was tired and cold from clinging onto Cheren's Unfezant and wanted to head straight to her room, but the living room light was on, and her father was sitting on the couch watching TV.

He looked at her once, briefly. "You should've come back earlier."

She was too tired for this.

"You could just say things nicely," she said.

"You have more important things to do than go out and party."

A familiar indignance began to boil in her chest. It took every ounce of willpower to keep her mouth shut and not stomp up the stairs.

That wasn't how that was supposed to go down. She knew he had stayed up waiting for her. She knew he was worried. She knew he was coming from a place of concern.

But sometimes, it was easier to fall back onto old routines.

After she crashed into her bed, she heard the faint murmur of the TV cease, and her father quietly shuffle to his own room.

-

_From: Prof Juniper <3_

_To: Bianca_

_Are you free to run an errand?_

-

If she was being honest, she didn't like to fly.

Bianca wasn't scared of flying, but the wind always blew her hair into her face, and it was slightly too cold up in the sky. And as much as she loved Skyla, her gym had been the biggest headache of all.

But above all, she didn't understand the appeal of looking down and seeing everything shrink into nothing. Skyscrapers shrank until they were disappointingly smaller than her pinky. The people were so tiny they disappeared entirely.

So when she had the time, Bianca walked.

The fog was thick in the mornings, clinging heavy and damp onto leaves and grass. By the time she arrived in Nacrene City, the fog had burned away, and sunlight lit the trees a brilliant orange and red. Fallen leaves crunched satisfyingly underneath her shoes. She could hear a familiar accordion play in the distance, even over the plenty of other street performers positioned on nearly every street.

The Nacrene City Museum was just as warm and inviting as the autumn colors were outside. A massive Dragonite display stood at the very entrance, greeting guests and attracting a small crowd of ooh'ing children who occasionally tried to bypass the very large DO NOT TOUCH sign.

"Excuse me," she said, walking up to the information desk. "Is Lenora available? I'm here to pick up a few things for Professor Juniper."

A bespectacled man looked up and examined her quizzically.

"No, she's out at the moment," he said. "But I can get you the materials."

She followed him down a path she recognized as the way to the Nacrene Gym. The visitors' murmurs were quiet as they passed— a low buzz of conversation punctuated by the occasional child's shriek of delight.

When the man began to speak, he did so just as quietly as the others.

"Pardon me, but, are you by any chance," he hesitated, as if trying to recall something, "Black's friend? Bianca, was it?"

Bianca blinked. That wasn't a name she had been expecting, nor a name she had heard in a while. "...Yes?"

He exhaled in relief, relaxing into a smile. "It's nice to meet you. My name is Hawes, assistant director of the museum."

"The assistant director?" she repeated. "Then you're Lenora's..."

His smile widened. "Yes! I'm Lenora's husband. I saw you briefly back when—" He paused suddenly, mulling over his next words. "Back when you were recruiting help against Team Plasma."

"Oh." She remembered bits and pieces—frantically running around the entirety of Unova, barging into gyms and yelling on top of her lungs with no regard to her surroundings. "Haha. Um. Yes, that was me."

"It's good to see you when things are calmer. Thank you for everything you've done back then. It was very admirable."

"Oh, no, not at all!"

"On the contrary," he said. His voice remained in a gentle, even tone as he countered. "You played a big role in the fight."

While she had arrived too late with the Striaton gym leaders in tow, Bianca still remembered the fallen ruins of the castle. Team Plasma was in shambles, Ghetsis was subdued, N had disappeared.

One part of her whispered, even without her help Black had managed just fine.

Another part of her felt her heart fall as he stood, small and lonely against the vastness of the sky. Black had already been out of reach then—nothing she could've said or done would've helped him.

"No, really," Bianca said. "I didn't do much." Before Hawes could reply, she scrambled for another topic she could divert the conversation to. "But I'm sure as assistant director, you do plenty of amazing work."

Hawes blinked twice, taken aback.

"The, uh, museum is very well done," she said, the words falling flat even to her own ears. "I like it very much. It's always fun to visit and learn new things. "

Bianca sounded like a five-year-old. She wanted to hide in a hole, immediately.

"Thank you," Hawes said. His smile seemed genuine, if nothing else, and Bianca almost cried from how nice he was.

She decided to try one more time.

"When I first fought Lenora, I thought it was great how she organized her gym," she said. Her hands flew around as they normally did when she was nervous, trying to shape invisible rooms and decor. "The theme fit perfectly with the rest of the museum, and was still designed to teach you about Pokémon as you made your way through."

She was rambling, she knew she was, but Hawes was looking at her expectantly so she pushed through.

"Putting that kind of care and thought into her gym made me realize how amazing Lenora is. It was really inspiring." She rubbed the back of her neck, laughing lightly. "I only hope to become half the person she is."

Hawes remained silent. The sound of their footsteps echoed between them.

More talking it was, then.

"I'm not very good at the things I do," Bianca started. _Oh no_ , she thought, what was she saying now. But her mind was going a hundred miles an hour and talking to a barely stranger meant no filters whatsoever. "And I have a bad habit of chasing around people who I admire, trying to find something I like, or something I'm good at. So I'm a little jealous of people like Lenora who seem so sure of themselves in what they do."

He was still silent. Her palms were starting to sweat.

"Um—"

"Perhaps this is presumptuous of me," Hawes finally said, "but I think I understand how you feel."

It was Bianca's turn to be taken aback. Her mouth hung open in surprise.

"Like you said, Lenora is amazing. She’s had a dream since she was a child, a dream she treasured and nurtured and worked diligently towards until she got to where she is today. Director of one of the world's most renowned museums. A wonderful gym leader. A prominent figure in her field. She’s smart and kind and strong and—”

He stopped, blushing to his ears from embarrassment, but didn't shrink away.

"I love watching her work. I want to support her every step of the way. But it's easy to feel like I don't belong."

He suddenly stopped walking, and it took a moment for Bianca to realize they had already entered Nacrene Gym's library. The shelves and shelves of books towered over them. Hawes was by no means tall, but he appeared smaller than usual.

"I'm clumsy and awkward. I'm not very driven. If it wasn't for Lenora, I'd probably be holed up in a cubicle every day instead of doing what I do now."

He suddenly sighed.

"Sorry, I didn't mean to start talking about myself. Our situations aren't even identical." He flashed an apologetic smile. Bianca smiled back, unsure of what to say.

"But I think it's fine."

"Huh?"

"It's fine to be unsure of yourself," he said. "It's fine to not do as well as others. Everyone is human, they all make mistakes, they all have moments of failure and doubt. When they're at their peak, you might be at your lowest. And when they're at their lowest, you might be at your highest.

"There's no need to get anxious. You'll catch up to others eventually just by steadily working and focusing on yourself. And you'll reach a point where you can stand on your own two feet."

-

_To: Black :P_

_From: Bianca_

_hey! how are you? i hope ur doing fine. i think im doing fine too, thanks for asking. call ur mom btw, shes been kinda down. we miss you!_

-

Professor Juniper's lab looked like it had been hit with a snowstorm of paper.

"Thanks for picking up the books," she said. There were bags under her eyes that deepened when she smiled. "We're a bit swamped."

"It's no problem. Um, is there anything else I can help with?"

"It's fine, you can go and rest." Professor Juniper looked almost wistful as she said it, her eyes already drifting back to her desk.

"Oh. Okay." She surprised herself with how dejected she sounded. "Good luck, then."

"Wait."

The professor peered at Bianca over her reading glasses.

"I don't have any jobs for you right now," she said after a moment. "But if you don't mind, my father could use a helping hand."

-

Castelia was very lively, and very lonely.

Bianca made friends easily, both in and out of Castelia University, but she quickly realized it was just as easy to blend into a crowd and become unnoticeable. It was an unavoidable side effect of having so many people in one place.

At some point, Bianca found herself taking more secluded routes. She knew the alleyways like the back of her hand—shortcuts, she called them, to avoid the constant car honking and crowds during rush hours. Though in the end, she walked this way because it was calming.

Something was off, though. The buildings were in their usual dilapidated state. Though the city had cleaned up most of Team Plasma's propaganda in the more populated streets, old posters and graffiti still covered the walls. But what was unsettling was the distinct absence of Trubbish.

She sniffed the air. Depressingly clean.

Bianca tapped her pen against her head as she went over her clipboard. There were usually small populations of Trubbish scattered throughout the city, but she had run into a grand total of seven so far.

With a sigh, she took out her Xtransceiver and scrolled through her contacts to find Cedric Juniper. After reporting to him, maybe she'd grab a quick bite before covering the docks then head home...

And then the smell hit her. It wasn't strong, but it was unexpected, and she found herself bursting into a fit of coughs anyway.

"Whoa there. You alright?"

Bianca yelped at the sudden voice and looked up in bewilderment.

A girl in a surgical mask stood before her, a paper bag in her arms, with three Trubbish in tow.

"Wh-wh-huh?"

-

"I'm White," the girl said, pulling down her mask so her voice wasn't muffled. She plopped down next to a dumpster and patted the spot next to her. Bianca eyed the mysterious stains on the ground warily and opted for crouching instead. When White began rummaging through her bag, the Trubbish began hopping and crowding in, their ears flapping in excitement. "I come out and feed the Trubbish sometimes."

"You...feed them?"

"Yeah. It makes them happy, and they end up liking me," she said. "And you know, once they like someone, they don't smell as bad, and then people get less sick. Win-win for everyone." Her face broke out into a toothy grin. "I'm like a really cool janitor."

"O-oh..."

"A Trubbish whisperer."

"Ahaha..."

White pulled out a bagel from the paper bag and began to tear it into bits, tossing it to the Trubbish who caught them as they rolled over and into each other, sharp teeth chomping down happily. White smiled.

"Aren't they the cutest?"

Something about the way White said it made it clear she wouldn't accept 'no' for an answer.

"Um, yeah!"

"So what's your name?"

"Oh." Bianca blinked. "Sorry, I should've introduced myself earlier! I'm Bianca. I'm tracking down the Tru—"

"Bianca?" White repeated. She peered, unabashed, into Bianca's face. "Hmmm."

"I-Is something wrong?"

"You don't really look like a Bianca."

"Ex...Excuse me?"

"Well. Not that I know what a Bianca is supposed to look like." White laughed. "I guess I just imagined someone sassier."

Bianca didn't know how to respond. She could get angry, or she could laugh along, but Bianca got the distinct feeling that White would just continue to say unexpected things at her own pace regardless.

She'd take one for the team and focus on something more important.

"Listen, do you happen to know anything ab—"

A long, low growl interrupted her. It took another second to recognize it was her stomach.

White snorted as she giggled.

"Here," she said, tearing off half a bagel. "Have some."

"It's," Bianca said, turning red, "it's fine."

"Just take it. It's not poisoned, and I have more."

White tossed the bagel towards her before she could say anything more, and out of reflex Bianca caught it mid-air.

"Th-thanks," she said. "Um, like I was saying, do you happen to know anything about the missing Trubbish?" The bagel in her hands was slightly warm—almost fresh from the bakery. She took a bite. Cream cheese would've been nice, but it'd do.

"Missing Trubbish?" White's eyebrows knit together. "They're missing?"

"They're usually more populated throughout Castelia, but—"

"Oh, no, they're not missing."

"Ruh?" Bianca choked mid-bite. "Rhat?"

"Yeah. The summer was really hot, so they got stinkier than usual, and people started chasing them out. They're all hiding out in the sewers right now."

She finally swallowed. "You're saying there's an overpopulation of Trubbish in the _sewers_?" Dimly, she realized White must've gone inside the sewers herself, for whatever reason.

"Sounds about right. That overpop-thing you said. But it's alright." White pulled out another bagel and began handing out pieces one by one. The Trubbish swayed in place as they waited their turns and cried out in joy. "I'm taking them back out bit by bit. I don't think people would appreciate if I brought out a hundred at once after all."

"You're _reintroducing_ them?"

"I think they all know each other already."

"No, that's not—" Bianca stopped. The entire situation was growing more and more unbelievable. "Who _are_ you?"

"I'm the Trubbish whisperer." White smiled cheekily.

"Get out."

Her eyes twinkled. "Spoken like a true Bianca."

-

"You're in a good mood," her mother said. "Did something nice happen?"

"Am I? I wouldn't exactly call it nice..."

She glanced at her father, who sat resolutely facing the TV.

"I'm home," she said, raising her voice. "Early."

"Okay."

She stifled the urge to say something back. For now, it was good enough.

-

A combination of Cedric Juniper's connections, and the very obvious health hazard of having a large amount of toxic pokémon in an equally unsanitary area, made City Hall pass formalities with due haste. Their team was small, but for the most part experienced.

And White. White had very forcefully worked her way into the team, sparkling eyes and enthusiastic words falling on skeptical ears, until Bianca said, "She's with me."

Somehow White's presence naturally attracted all the Trubbish. The pokémon gathered around her, bouncing excitedly as they followed her like a train of Duckletts.

"I told you, didn't I?" White said smugly. "I'm—"

"—A Trubbish Whisperer. We've heard for the hundredth time," Bianca said, but there was only light teasing in her voice. "Remember to put your gas mask on properly!"

White made a face. "These look so scary though. Can't I go without it?"

"Nope."

-

They managed to finish in record time.

After everyone had packed their equipment and driven off, White stood in front of the sewer entrance, stretching her arms wide open as if trying to embrace everything they faced.

"This was so much fun! Wasn't it?"

There was a giddiness bubbling inside Bianca's chest, the excitement making her queasy and jittery.

It had been a long time.

"It was," she said, a smile splitting across her face until her cheeks hurt. "It was really fun."

"Right? It was super different from what I normally do. You get to do some really cool stuff."

"You big flatterer. Thanks."

White lifted her arm and began fiddling around with her Xtransceiver. "Hey, let's swap numbers. I wanna hang out when I get back!"

"Get back? Are you going somewhere?"

"Yep. I'm gonna go travel. Sightsee and all that." She gave a thumbs up. "I'm gonna miss the Trubbish though."

Bianca laughed. "Should I feed them in your place?"

"Would you? That'd be great."

"Send a lot of pics!"

"You bet." White suddenly looked up at her. "What are you gonna do after this?"

Bianca shrugged, the movement light and unburdened. "I'll figure something out."


	3. Winter

Lately, Black's dreams were silent. The people were faceless. His surroundings were impossible to identify. Maybe it was Chargestone Cave. Maybe it was Dragonspiral Tower. Maybe it was in the depths of a castle.

The snow was quiet as it fell. It muted the entire world, and he couldn't hear what N was saying. A silence rung in place of conversations Black used to remember.

He was forgetting.

-

He blamed it on the distance, the environment. Kalos wasn't technically different from Unova—it had its cities and its suburbs. Its forests and its oceans. Legends and marvels. But it was blatantly not Unova.

There were no bridges—carefully engineered to support the livelihood of thousands, capturing the charm of each city, linking Unova into one connected entity. There were no skyscrapers lined up one after the other, standing proudly under the sun. No cities buzzing with rapid development. No ferries traversing ocean-like rivers. No hectic subway battles. No Bianca and Cheren. No family.

But there was a small, small chance of N.

So no matter how distant memories of Unova became, Black clung onto his small, small hope and continued to search.

-

The holiday festivities seemed to begin earlier and earlier every year. That, or Black had lost all sense of time and it was, in fact, December.

A year ago he had spent his winter in Lacunosa—they strung lights and hung ornaments just as they did everywhere else. But where Castelia and Nimbasa's lights were diluted by the city's night life, they were beautiful in Lacunosa's almost total darkness. It was a strange sight, to be in a town so silent and empty while the decorations shined at their brightest.

It was mysterious, a little frightening, but he hadn't felt lonely. He sat outside when it was taboo to do so, watching snow fall and his Chandelure dance through the night.

Sitting in the middle of Lumiose, watching people cautiously shuffle through the first snowfall of the region in years, cars honking through traffic, Black couldn't help but feel all the cheery decorations were ironic and mocking.

Beside him, Looker sighed.

"I know I'm the one who technically brought you here," he said, cupping his hands around his coffee like a lifeline, "but you should try thinking of this as a vacation."

Black smiled. "I thought the International Police never took a break."

"We don't. But you're not part of us." He took a long sip. "You should enjoy yourself during the holidays."

"I guess." Then, "This is basically one big vacation for me. You don't need to worry." Black stretched out his arms. "See? I even bought a new coat. Kalos sure has some expensive stuff."

Looker grunted.

"I'm enjoying myself plenty," Black reassured him. "And as soon as I finish up my tour, I'll head home."

-

In Unova, he used to linger around Dragonspiral Tower, waiting to catch the first glimpse of a hypothetical N. In Kalos, he found himself spending a large portion of his time in Parfum Palace's gardens. The nearly life-sized sculptures of Reshiram and Zekrom, facing each other on opposite ends, was the closest thing Black could think of that N might want to see.

But maybe it was too obvious after all.

While he ran through a mental list of all the places he hadn't visited yet, a tourist called out to him, waving a Xtransceiver.

"B...Bonjour!" she said, her nose red and breath fogging in the air. "Umm, excusez-moi?"

Oh. "No—"

"S'il vous plaît...uh. Crap. Ahh, I hate this!" She frantically pantomimed a camera and pointed at her Xtransceiver. "T-take my picture?"

He couldn't help it. Black snorted, bursting into a small fit of laughter. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see an irritated crease appear between her eyebrows.

"You know," he said, breathless, "a lot of people here understand English."

Her mouth hung open, and then her nostrils flared as she huffed indignantly.

"I just wanted to try."

"You gave up way too fast."

"Whatever! I'll find someone else."

"No, no, I'm sorry. Here, I'll do it for you."

She glared at him, but still dropped her Xtransceiver into his open hands. "Then," she said, jabbing a thumb behind her, "can you wait a bit?"

Before Black could even blink, the girl turned to run towards the statue of Zekrom he had been looking at earlier.

And then she started to scale it.

"H-hey, I don't think you're allowed to do that!"

"Nobody's here!" she yelled back, planting a foot onto Zekrom's leg.

Black looked around. "I—Well, you're not wrong, but..."

He wasn't even sure if pokémon could sense what was happening outside, but he covered the master ball on his belt in silent apology, as if to hide Zekrom's line of sight.

The girl grunted as she steadily hoisted herself onto the statue's back. "Sheesh, this thing is tall. You ready?"

"Huh? Oh, sure." Black switched the Xtransceiver to camera mode, not entirely sure this was really happening. The girl put her hands on her hips and grinned. "Uh, one, two, three—"

" _Arrêtez-vous là_!"

"—cheese."

Her expression warped into surprise as he pressed the shutter.

-

A botched escape attempt and a fierce scolding later, they were both banned from Parfum Palace. Black figured he should be more upset when it was the closest link to Unova and N he had, but as he exchanged a glance with the girl, they only dissolved into adrenaline-induced giggles.

"I'm White." She stuck out a gloved hand, and he shook it. It felt like he was grabbing more cloth than hand, but he could still feel the pressure of her grip pressing down.

"Black."

"Thanks for taking the pic. It came out great!" She laughed. "I can't wait to show it to my friends."

"Is it that fun taking photos?"

"Yep. You get to show off all the cool things you did." She hooked her Xtransceiver back around her wrist. "Plus it's fun to share things you think someone else would like."

"Huh." Black's mouth set into a quizzical line. "I guess so."

-

Black was a poor friend, he knew that. He rarely initiated anything on his end. His Xtransceiver was flooded with unread and forgotten messages. And with poor or nonexistent connection, responding became even more impossible. He supposed it was for the better that the messages crawled to a stop—the last text he received was from Bianca several months ago.

Still, his mother called every week. Sometimes he was able to answer. Sometimes it might be over a month before he could talk. He didn't remember how long it had been this time. Black had turned off his Xtransceiver for fear of international service charges and tossed it to the bottom of his bag.

Now, he dusted it off and carefully strapped it onto his wrist.

He wasn't sure what to do. He had never taken pictures on his own.

After a long moment of furrowing his brow and ruffling his hair, Black finally turned on his Xtransceiver and faced it towards him.

What would N want to see? Black asked himself.

With a stiff smile as he tried to get a good angle, he hoped the answer was his face.

-

He ran into White again in Shalour City.

She was the only one on the beach—understandably, when the sky was thick with grey clouds and the wind whipped her ponytail furiously around her face and stung his. A Garbodor clung onto her leg as it faced the ocean with its trainer, who raised her Xtransceiver high above her head.

White didn't seem surprised when he walked up beside her.

"Long time no see," she shouted over the wind. "I had a feeling I'd see you again."

"That's kind of creepy. Are you a psychic?"

"Intuition." She winked. "Actually, I saw you when I accidentally flipped the camera around."

"That is creepy."

Black stuck his hands into his armpits and hunched up for warmth. "It's not much of a view with this weather." He nodded towards the ocean, its grey waves more threatening than inviting. "You're still trying to take a pic?"

"A view's a view. I think it's cool."

He blinked. "I guess."

"You said that last time, too," White said, laughing. "Are you ever sure about anything?"

He knew she had meant it jokingly, so he smiled back. "Not really," Black said. It was a little too quiet to be heard against wind. He glanced at Garbodor, shivering in the cold but refusing to leave White's side, and said, louder, "Hey, do you battle?"

Her Garbodor cried out in place of White. She patted its head fondly.

"'Course I do. Why, you wanna?"

"A little."

"Someday, you gotta tell me when you're really sure of something," she said, but she was already tucking away her Xtransceiver and shifting into a wide, balanced stance. "No 'I guess'es, no 'a little's."

White, he was starting to realize, took things into stride too easily; though he couldn't criticize when he was the same.

He grinned, digging the heels of his boots into the sand. "I'll be sure to tell you when I am."

-

"I can't believe I lost!" White's voice carried throughout the Pokémon Center as she peeled off her gloves and all but stuck her hands inside the radiator. Black's face was also inches away—he could barely feel it after being hit with a full blast of winter winds.

"You were really good," he offered. Wildly unpredictable, he thought, remembering how quickly she shifted between offense and defense at a whim, even while hampered by wind and sand.

"I still lost," she grumbled. "You didn't even bring out your full team."

Black pictured White's wide-eyed expression if he had pulled Zekrom out, and snickered. She lightly slapped the back of his head with her gloves.

"I'll get you next time."

"I can't wait."

-

He went back to the beach later and took a picture—all stormy clouds and dull colors—and wondered if N would like this one, too.

-

White seamlessly integrated herself into his search across Kalos.

"We're going the same way. Might as well," she had said.

He didn't give it much thought. "Okay."

White was energetic and approachable. She had Cheren's decisiveness and Bianca's tenacity and the initiative that he lacked. She was competitive and challenged him frequently. She made snap judgements, was impatient, and incredibly stubborn.

But it was, honestly, comfortable and familiar to have her around. It reminded him of home.

He missed talking about Unova, about everything and nothing. How she had always wanted to eat a Casteliacone in the winter. How he spent an embarrassing amount of time in Driftveil's Cold Storage in the summer. How they had both never seen Icirrus' annual holiday show.

And best of all, she didn't pry too deeply into his life, and he didn't with hers.

-

They took pictures of everything around them: the light decorations in Lumiose, the cathedral in Anistar, the dream-like winter wonderland of Snowbelle. They took pictures of clothes and local pokémon. They took pictures of themselves, each other, and together.

"Hey, who are you gonna show all of this to?" White asked.

"My friends."

"Hmmm. You're lying."

"Seriously, are you psychic?"

"Nah, you just said it too fast."

Black waited, wondering if she'd drop the topic. White waited, boring into him with expectant eyes.

So much for no prying.

He rolled around all the possible responses in his head until he finally settled on: "Someone."

She made a face.

"Another time," he said.

"Liar."

-

Bianca once told him that if he thought about something enough times during the day, he would dream about it at night. It made sense and Black believed her, but in the beginning when he would try his hardest, nothing would appear.

Now without even trying, N appeared in Black's dreams, growing hazy and transparent with each passing day. N had no mouth, no voice, but Black still understood that he was asking a question.

"---------------------?"

Black didn't make out any words. He didn't known how to respond.

It was only when he woke up in the dead silence of his hotel room, drenched in cold sweat, that Black remembered what N had asked.

-

"Do you have a dream?"

They were sitting on a bench in Laverre, huddled around their coffee for warmth, kicking their legs against the piled snow. For a fairly large city, Laverre was quiet. It reminded him of Lacunosa, where if he talked too loud it felt as if he would break some unspoken, sacred law.

Black watched the steam rise from his cup and curl around distant and bare trees. White squeezed her paper cup experimentally.

"I have a lot," she said.

"But do you have, like, a big dream?"

"What's wrong with a lot of small ones?"

"Well." He paused. "Nothing, I guess."

She unsqueezed her cup with a pop.

"I want world peace, and I want pokémon and people to live in perfect harmony forever."

"Those are supposed to be small dreams?"

"They're supposed to be guaranteed things."

Black wasn't sure his eyebrows could come any closer together.

"Are you just avoiding the question?"

She shrugged. "Are you going to tell me who you're sending pictures to?"

They settled into an unsatisfying silence, punctuated only by White slurping her coffee and Black sniffling in the cold.

-

Their most recent match ended in a draw, Samurott pulling ahead of her Scrafty in a simple, crude contest of strength.

"I don't get it," White said. "Why are you this tough when you look like a scrawny nerd?"

"Gee, thanks."

"You might be stronger than the subway masters."

"It's because I'm the Unova League champion."

She snorted. "At least try to say something believable."

He did though, Black thought. Even if it only was a couple hours before he shirked all responsibilities and chased after Team Plasma instead.

"Who's your last pokémon anyway? You never bring it out."

"It's Zekrom."

"Okay, I get it. If you don't wanna tell me anything you can just say so."

Black laughed, much to White's chagrin.

"Well since I lost, I'm picking where we go next," she grumbled.

"I don't think that's how it works."

"It's called being nice, you ass."

-

White woke up too early for his tastes, which was fine, but shaking him awake before sunrise and shoving tickets into his face was less fine. She chattered on and on about trains this and trains that as she dragged him to the nearest station. Black wasn't sure what was happening—everything was a blur until he jolted into full consciousness when the train rolled into Couriway Town.

"It's _cold_ ," he said.

She beamed and handed him a cup of coffee.

-

"Okay," Black said, bending as far back as he could with his Xtransceiver, "okay, this is pretty cool."

Couriway's massive waterfalls were deafening as they rushed down cliffs, spreading out into half-frozen rivers, trickling around houses capped in snow. The cold stung his face and it hurt to breathe, but the air was clean and fresh compared to the stuffiness of Lumiose.

Three shutter presses later, and he turned to find White looking strangely contemplative.

"What's wrong? You were more excited than I was to come here."

She made a noncommittal sound, crossing her arms and tilting her head.

"It's not what I expected," she said.

"What did you expect?"

She shrugged. "More trains. Something like Anville." White squatted down near the edge of a river, watching chunks of ice float by. "Something like Unova."

Black snapped a picture of White with an audible click. She blinked up at him with raised brows.

"What was that for?"

"It was a rare 'Sad White' moment."

She narrowed her eyes and balled her hand into a fist. "You—"

"Are you homesick?"

She frowned. Black crouched down next to her and inclined his head as if to show he was listening.

White grabbed his ear and pulled.

"I am!" she shouted. Black yelled and jumped. "I wanna go home! I wanna go battle in the subways! I wanna see Ingo and Emmet and my Trubbish!"

"Shhh," he hissed, his ear still ringing,"this is a residential area, I don't think you should be so loud—"

"I don't care!" Her frown deepened. "Don't you wanna go home?"

Black stared.

"Are you crying?"

"I'll make _you_ cry if you don't stop being so stupid."

"S-sorry."

He reached out and rubbed her back while White glared into space, as if that would stop her eyes from watering.

After a long moment, Black asked, "Why don't you go home? You can, right?"

He could see the gears turning in her head as she mulled over her words.

"Someone told me I was limiting myself," White said.

"Wow, they sound like a jerk."

"No, he's a good guy. And I don't think he's wrong."

She sighed shakily, her breath condensing into a thick stream of white.

"You asked me last time if I had a dream," she said, wiping furiously her eyes. "I used to. The Battle Subway used to be my entire world."

"And now?"

"And now I don't know what to do besides it."

"How about the League?"

White turned to face him, her red-tinged eyes completely serious. "The thing about the League," she said in a nasally voice, "is that when I beat the champion, I have to take over, right? I don't think I'm ready for that kind of responsibility yet."

"When you beat him, huh?" Black bit back a smile. White's absolute certainty always caught him off guard, but he never doubted her. "You know you don't have to take over? You can just fight the champion whenever you want."

She looked incredulous. "Really?"

"It'd probably look bad, though, if you keep beating him a bunch of times. For both of you."

"Hmmm." White leaned back, nearly falling down onto the snow. "I'll think about it. What about you? Will you go back home?"

Long green hair flashed through his mind. A name lay heavy on his tongue. "Maybe."

"Stingy," she said. The disappointment was clear in her voice. "Secretive."

Black rubbed the back of his neck and sighed.

"I'm looking for someone," he said, "and I can't go back home till then. So it really is a 'maybe.'"

"Who are you looking for?"

"Just." Black searched for a word. "Someone."

He could sense her staring holes into him, disturbingly like a predator about to pounce.

"'Someone'?" White repeated slowly. "Is this the same 'someone' you're taking all those pictures for?"

He winced. "You should really look into becoming a psychic."

"It's not like you make it hard for me to guess."

White grew uncharacteristically quiet again. She didn't speak until they had both stood up, stretched their legs, and began walking to higher ground.

"Are you really looking for this person?"

Black stilled. "Why do you say that?"

"During all this time I've been with you, I've never seen you search for anyone."

Her words pricked at him, sharp and aimed at his heart.

"Sorry. Did I say too much? You can punch me if you want."

"I won't. I'm not you." Black made a face, comically twisted as to lighten the mood. She didn't snort, or fake a punch of her own—White only stared straight ahead as they walked.

He let the soft crunch of their boots fill the silence, until Black spoke as quiet and slow as his footsteps in the snow. "I think a part of me has already given up." The words felt foreign in his mouth. "And another part of me just doesn't want to admit he's not here."

She hummed in contemplative thought. "Can I ask one more thing?"

"Sure."

"Do you want to go home?"

Black glanced at White, at the looming train station, and at the roaring waterfalls obscuring the horizon.

"Someday."

-

N's vague figure was barely recognizable; a wisp of a memory his dreams clung onto. The ruins around them were more visible than he was.

This time, Black spoke first.

"I never had a dream."

N was silent.

"I didn't want to become champion. I didn't mean to defeat Team Plasma."

He stepped closer. N didn't disappear.

"I just followed others around. I did what people expected me to do."

Another step.

"But I liked your dream."

Another step.

"I thought if I ever wanted to see something come true, I'd like it to be yours."

He stood nose to nose with a face he couldn't see.

"But how am I supposed to do that without you?"

Black could see the sky beyond N, a sharp, clear blue, empty of clouds and anything that could be mistaken for a cloud.

"Come home."

-

On the last day of the year, they laid out their sleeping bags in order to watch the sunrise from Cyllage's cliffs. White's Darmanitan lit a small fire to keep them warm. They roasted marshmallows and brewed hot chocolate while scrolling through their collective photos and waited for the hours to pass.

At some point, they had swapped Xtransceivers, and White stopped scrolling through Black's photos, instead staring long and hard at the screen.

"Hey, about your 'someone.'"

The fire crackled. Black counted the seconds—one and two, three and four.

"I get the feeling that you love him."

"Please," his voice cracked, "learn how to filter yourself."

"So you don't love him?"

"I didn't say that."

"You do, then."

He closed his eyes, slowly inhaled, and slowly exhaled.

"Yeah," he said. "I do."

When White didn't respond, he cracked open an eye and saw her smile illuminated by firelight.

"I'm sure," she said, handing him back his Xtransceiver, "that he'll like your photos."

Black's own face smiled up at him, awkward and embarrassed—the first picture he ever took, out of eleven more attempts.

He groaned and buried his face into his hands. "I should've deleted these."

She laughed. "It's too late to take back your confession now."

He glared at her.

"I wasn't going to."

-

Black woke up to the morning sky covered by a thick wall of clouds.

"Happy New Year," White said.

Black looked at her groggily. White snapped a picture.

"What time is it?"

"Eight. You wanna keep sleeping?" Every word was punctuated by her Xtransceiver's camera shutter.

"Stop taking pics of me," he croaked. "Why didn't you wake me up?"

"I did, and then you said you'd rather get run over by a Boldore than get up. You didn't miss much. It was too cloudy to see the sun."

Black yawned. "Happy New Year."

"And what's the first thing sleeping beauty wants to do for the year?"

In the distance, he could see the beach, the tide slowly retreating from the shore.

"How about a battle?"

-

"I have three resolutions this year," White said as they took their positions. She held out three fingers. "One, beat the League."

"You can do it."

"Two, beat you."

"Good luck with that."

"And three." She put her hands on her hips, shoulders back, chest open and challenging. "I'll find him for you. Your 'someone.'"

Black blinked rapidly. "What?" His mind scrambled to make the proper comprehension checks. "Why? How?"

"Intuition. I have a good feeling I'll run into him."

"Intuition isn't a lot to go off of."

"It's never failed me before."

"You," Black began. But one look at White's infectiously confident smile, and his breath hitched in disbelieving laughter. He leaned forward, clutching his stomach and steadying himself with a hand on his knee.

"Alright. But first you have to win against me."

"That's easy! I could beat you right now."

He reached for his belt, brushing over a master ball he hadn't brought out in weeks, his grin mirroring hers.

"We'll see."


End file.
